


Vigil

by andthenshesaid-write (ladyknight1512)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, But only very brief, Gen, and an attempted mugging, like two lines - Freeform, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknight1512/pseuds/andthenshesaid-write
Summary: People always assume that the hardest part about it is going out in the middle of the night in a big city and everything that entails. But Dan knows they’re wrong. The hardest part isn’t going out, it’s being left behind.In which Phil is a superhero, Dan is not and the night is long.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not interested in superheroes. I don't watch anything about them. I don't read anything about them. They're just not my cup of tea. But one night last week, I was lying awake trying to get to sleep and the first line of this fic popped into my head and I couldn't shake it. I finally decided to write it down. I hope you enjoy it.

People always assume that the hardest part about it is going out in the middle of the night in a big city and everything that entails. But Dan knows they’re wrong. The hardest part isn’t going out, it’s being left behind.

*

“Be careful,” Dan says, arms wrapped around himself.

It’s what he says every night.

They’re standing in the kitchen, by the window that opens onto the fire escape. The sleeves of Dan’s hoodie are pulled over his hands to hide his clenched fists. Phil’s pulling his mask on – it comes up from behind his neck to cover most of his head, including that tell-tale fringe, his eyes, nose and cheekbones. Only his mouth and chin are uncovered.

“I’m always careful,” Phil says.

He is, of course he is. But Phil can’t read minds and he doesn’t have eyes in the back of his head. And Dan will never forget how Phil fell back into the kitchen at three thirty one morning with a bullet in his leg.

*

Dan remembers how he found out that Phil – AmazingPhil from YouTube, Phil Lester, _his_ Phil – is the superhero known as The Flood. It was back in Manchester, during that one reluctant year he spent at uni trying to turn himself into someone normal.

He was out with some friends when it happened. They were stumbling back to the dorms after a night out drinking too much cheap beer, calling out to each other in that overly loud, slurred way only drunk people can. They were easy targets for the couple of guys who stepped out of the dark side street to meet them.

Punches were thrown on both sides – the girls screamed – Dan took an elbow to the gut and doubled over to heave into the gutter and gasp for breath. And that was when _he_ arrived. The Flood.

Those were the early days. The Flood had only been on the public radar for about six months and he was only just starting to gain attention around the country, but there wasn’t a single soul in Manchester that didn’t know about him. 

A wave rose out of nowhere and crashed over the muggers’ heads. Drenched and choking, they stumbled as another wave came rolling down the footpath and swept their feet out from under them and carried them back off down the street they’d stepped out of. 

The ground wasn’t even wet, Dan noticed, as he pushed himself to his feet. But there was the salty scent of the sea hanging around them, and the air felt heavy and moist, like the air after a storm on a summer’s day.

One of the girls was crying and another was kneeling on the ground to gather up all the items that had spilled out of her bag when one of the muggers made a grab for it. Some of the others were stumbling over thank yous; someone was sitting on the ground, groaning over what ended up being a sprained ankle.

But Dan? Dan had been stunned into silence because he had caught The Flood’s gaze and he would know those eyes anywhere.

*

“Any idea where you’ll end up tonight?” Dan asks, because he always feels like he needs to make conversation when Phil’s getting ready to go out.

Phil shakes his head and tugs a glove straight. “It depends what’s happening and where. I’ll try to be home by four.”

Dan nods because it’s not like there’s anything else he can do.

“Try not to get too banged up. We’ve got that meeting with the publishers tomorrow.” Dan tries for light and teasing but it comes out slightly strangled, like he couldn’t quite get enough air in before he spoke.

Phil smiles gently and squeezes Dan’s elbows. “I’ll be careful, Dan, I promise. Try to get some sleep, okay?”

*

The morning after the mugging he was sure it must have been some elaborate, alcohol-induced hallucination, but his stomach ached where he’d been hit and, when he ventured out of his room to go to a lecture, he found that everyone on the floor had already heard about how they had been rescued by The Flood himself.

It wasn’t like Dan could ignore it after that, though he did try to convince himself that he must have made a mistake. The alternative wasn’t possible. There was no way Phil was The Flood. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard! Phil, who pouted and threw tantrums when Dan beat him at video games. Phil, who couldn’t see even a picture of a dog without cooing. Phil, who was so clumsy he was always covered in bruises and scratches that he couldn’t explain.

…Except, now that Dan thought about it, maybe they _could_ be explained. Who else but a superhero would always be in some state of injured?

No, it was crazy. So crazy that he put down his phone every time he picked it up to call Phil and tell him about the stupid, impossible things he’d been thinking. He wasn’t interested in being laughed at after the trauma he’d already suffered.

He might have been able to let it go if Phil had contacted him. But there was complete radio silence. No calls, no texts, no tweets or Facebook messages. Nothing. As if Phil had completely dropped off the face of the earth. After almost two years of daily contact, it was a sign that something wasn’t right. With each day that passed, Dan was forced to consider that maybe the impossible wasn’t so impossible after all.

*

After The Flood has misted himself onto the fire escape and out into the night, Dan makes himself a hot chocolate. It’s a common misconception that The Flood can turn himself invisible. Dan isn’t sure how it works and, to be honest, neither is Phil, but it’s more like he can turn the air around him into steam that acts a bit like a cloak. It allows him to move around the city unseen. It’s something to be grateful for because, even though Dan knows full well that Phil actively looks for trouble, a small part of him likes to believe that he’ll find less of it if he can’t be seen.

It doesn’t make any sense, but hope rarely does.

With the mug warm between his palms, he moves into the lounge – he leaves the kitchen window propped open and the light on, like a beacon in the night to guide The Flood home.

The apartment always feels bigger and emptier when The Flood is out. It’s not the same as when Phil’s out during the day, running errands or meeting up with people. During the night, the shadows in the corners seem deeper and darker, the stairs creak of their own accord and the whole place echoes like a cavern.

Dan settles into his sofa crease and turns on the TV, not to watch, just for the background noise. Silence makes room for all the worst case scenarios to play out in his head.

*

Dan had the spare key to Phil’s apartment because there wasn’t anyone else for him to give it to and it wasn’t like he had a mat to put it under. Still, rather than let himself in, Dan knocked.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and shuffled his feet. It felt like an eternity before Phil opened the door.

They stared at each other across the threshold. Phil was pale, paler than normal, and there were dark circles under his eyes. His fringe hung limp in his eyes. Anyone else would have assumed Phil was sick.

“So it’s true then?” Dan asked.

Phil sighed and stepped back, pulling the door open wider. “You better come in.”

There were clothes strewn around and dishes piled up in the sink. Dan was too restless to sit down, even though Phil yanked a jumper off Dan’s usual seat and threw it onto the coffee table.

“Do you want a drink?” Phil asked. Unfailingly polite, even with the laws of the universe crashing down around Dan’s ears.

“I don’t understand,” Dan said.

“I know–”

“No!” Dan pushed his hands through his hair. “No, Phil, you don’t know. We’ve known each all this time, we’ve done so much, shared _so much_ , and it never occurred to you that maybe you should tell me you’re a superhero?”

“It’s not really the kind of thing you just casually drop into conversation.”

“I’m not saying you should have told me while we were waiting in line to pay for coffee. But there must have been some point in the last two years when you could have said _something_.”

“…Is that really what bothers you most about this whole thing? That I didn’t tell you? Not that I can actually do all those things in the first place?”

Dan shook his head and collapsed onto the edge of the sofa. “I mean…it’s crazy. Right? It shouldn’t be possible. But it is. And the fact that you chose not to tell me…what did you think I was going to do? Announce it to everyone in my intro to criminal law lecture? They would have carted me off for psychoanalysis.”

Phil’s shoulders had slumped. “I’m sorry, Dan. You’re right, I should’ve told you. But I wasn’t even using my powers for anything useful when we met. And I’ve only been doing all this superhero stuff for about a year. I was just worried you would think it was all too much. You’re my best friend, you know? I didn’t want you to leave but I’ll understand if you do.”

That was part of the reason it had been so hard for Dan to come to terms with in the first place. The Flood was a superhero. He went out on a night and faced down muggers, broke up fights and even put out fires. How could it be that The Flood was the same person sitting in front of him, hunched over and small? Superheroes didn’t need reassurance, did they?

“Of course I’m not going to leave you, Phil,” Dan said into the silence. “It’s not like there’s anyone else in this city who’ll let me film in their bedroom when I need a change of scenery.”

Phil laughed and Dan smiled. If they could still joke and laugh, maybe it would all be okay. Maybe nothing would have to change. But that didn’t mean that Dan didn’t have questions.

“So, how often do you go out?”

“Every night, unless there’s something I really can’t get out of.”

“And the other night, were you following me?” It had been playing on Dan’s mind whenever he let himself think too closely about Phil and The Flood being the same person. After all, what were the chances that The Flood just happened to be passing by when Dan’s group of friends was attacked?

Phil bit his lip. “…I don’t do it all the time. Almost never. And it’s not like you go out that often. But I’ve seen the things that can happen to people in the dark and what good is being a superhero if you can’t protect the people who mean the most to you?”

Dan shook his head again. “Jesus Christ, Phil. Maybe I can’t deal with this. You go out every night to find trouble–”

“No.” Phil’s voice was the firmest it had been since Dan walked through the door. “To help people.”

“Okay, but who’s helping you? Am I going to spend the rest of my life unable to sleep because I know you’re out there, facing who knows what? What if something happens to you?”

“What if something happens to me when I go out to get milk? Or to you, when you’re on the way over here? Things happen, Dan, but if I can prevent some of them, it’s worth the risk.”

Later, when they were slumped together on the sofa, a bowl of crisps between them, Dan asked, “Why ‘The Flood’?”

“It wasn’t something I chose. When people started writing about me, it was just the name everyone agreed on.”

“Bit Biblical, isn’t it?”

Phil shrugged. “It’s not like I could have gone up to anyone and said I’d prefer to be called Ice Lord. And it’s better than ‘Aquaman’.”

*

Dan sips his hot chocolate and grimaces when he scalds his tongue. He sets his mug aside and grabs his laptop. He could edit the latest Sims video but he’s always more on edge when The Flood is out and nothing passes the time quite like Tumblr.

The Flood has a large online fanbase. Phil constantly jokes that, between his AmazingPhil followers and The Flood community, he’s got Dan’s numbers well and truly beat. Dan mumbles and snarks because that’s what he’s expected to do, but he doesn’t really mind. If they hadn’t agreed years ago that it was too dangerous for Dan to publicly support The Flood, Dan would be his biggest fan. He is Phil Trash #1 after all; he takes that shit seriously.

Scrolling through the gifs and the fanart of The Flood almost make Phil’s absence easier. They’re like little windows into the true heart of Phil, the one only Dan really knows is there. They remind him of the impact he has, of the ripples he leaves. Everyone he saves is someone’s son, daughter, brother, sister, friend, cousin, lover. No life is too big or too small. For that reason alone, Dan knows he can never ask Phil to stop going out. How can he ask Phil to choose between him and a whole city of people who might one day need him?

He’s going to doze off on the sofa eventually, because that’s what he’s been doing since they started living together. The Flood will come back sometime before dawn; he’ll close the window, draw the blind, turn off the light, pull off his mask and be Phil again. He’ll shake Dan awake, grey with exhaustion, and say that Dan didn’t need to wait up for him.  


It’s what he says every night.

They’ll stumble off to bed and sleep until ten and then they’ll go to a meeting and edit a video and bicker about the cereal and eat dinner. And then Phil will put his costume on and Dan will stand with him in the kitchen and say, “Be careful”.

Dan’s not a superhero but he is the person Phil comes home to every night. Some days, that feels like enough.


End file.
